


Exceptions To Rules

by periwinklepromise



Series: Femslash February 2020 [21]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence (off-screen), F/F, Femslash, Femslash February 2020, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Mild Sexual Content, Pining, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:14:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22837648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periwinklepromise/pseuds/periwinklepromise
Summary: This was all Clint's fault. He'd put his neck out for her, saved her life, served as inspiration to defect, drafted her into SHIELD … and introduced her to Deputy Director Maria Hill.
Relationships: Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov
Series: Femslash February 2020 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619608
Comments: 16
Kudos: 189
Collections: Ladies of Marvel Bingo 2019, Natasha Bingo





	Exceptions To Rules

**Author's Note:**

> For Ladies of Marvel Bingo square E2 Heartfelt Confessions and Natasha Romanova Bingo square Natasha/Maria, my most favorite f/f ship for Marvel!

This was Clint's fault.

Clinton Francis Barton, alias Hawkeye. Current SHIELD agent, acclaimed marksman, former assassin. Ally. Possible friend. Natalia could conceivably stretch their association into something more intimate, something easier to manipulate, but it was not necessary at this time, and certainly not desired.

Because this was _all_ Clint's fault. He'd put his neck out for her, saved her life, served as inspiration to defect, drafted her into SHIELD … and introduced her to Deputy Director Maria Hill.

When Natalia decided to be seen, women tended to have very strong reactions. If not concerning her character, then at least her appearance. She could become invisible if she wanted to, of course, even among the other agents at SHIELD, but when any woman _saw_ her, they got defensive or jealous or insecure or interested or curious.

Any woman except Director Hill.

She had a clinical eye and a sensible air, and that was the end of it. Her eyes rested on Natalia when appropriate, but not a moment beyond that. She listened to Natalia's input and applied it when necessary, kept her dark brown hair slicked back and her makeup simple, and was a competent and efficient Deputy Director of a clandestine agency.

This was probably the most above-board Natalia was ever going to be. She could stand to be above Director Hill, she thought. Or beneath, if Hill had a strong preference. Natalia would not be overly fastidious in this.

She could recognize the irony. Most of the low-level SHIELD agents had assumed she would become sexually involved with Clint, but she had instead become interested in the highest ranked woman available.

And Hill's reputation was clear – she had been an exemplary field agent before her promotion. It had occurred to Natalia to defeat all her training records on purpose, but she had dismissed it quickly. It would not help her achieve her goal, and various records would be beaten in time, even without conscious effort.

Natalia could be patient.

Like in planning a suitable punishment for Clint, for causing this. She had thought she could spend some time to herself in the States, could consider what it meant for her to no longer be affiliated with the Red Room, but now half her errant thoughts were concerned with a diligent _and delectable_ brunette.

And it was _all Clint's fault_.

“That will be all, Agent Romanova.”

She gave a quick nod to Hill. “Director.” Then she turned on her heel and stalked out. With Coulson as the mission lead, Nat would not have to concern herself with much beyond her actual role. And the costume for it.

She grew weary of being the bait so often, but there was little to be done about that. Many men in the underground lost their heads around an attractive girl who didn't simper at them, and Nat qualified for the role. She certainly had plenty of experience playing that part.

But she did hope that one day, her mastery of other skills would garner greater appreciation. It was not enough to be useful; she wanted to provide particular uses. Clint was called upon for his bow, why could she not be called upon for her bites? She held the highest rank for hand-to-hand combat out of all the agents, surely that was worth something.

She took the stairs down to her costume fitting – a poorly tailored outfit would ruin the deception – and she spent the time expelling the steam from her mind. There was no use in taking umbrage; SHIELD would protect her from her past as long as she remained useful, and even if that meant wearing something as horrid as polyester, it was worth it.

At least it hadn't come to that.

She slipped into the dress and let the tailor do his work. Nat stood in front of all those mirrors and thought of ballet. She loved ballet, despite it all. The dress didn't even itch, she noted absently.

Air moved at the doorway, and Nat checked the proper reflection in her periphery. And then she froze.

Hill had come in – maybe she had forgotten to mention something in the briefing, maybe they had new intel – and stopped short in the doorway.

Her steel eyes were focused on Nat's legs peeking through the long slit up her left side, trailing up from the costume heels – only five inches, perfectly reasonable – to the way the tailor had pinned the fabric to hug her hips. When Hill's eyes hit hers, she blinked hard and swallowed harder. She even rocked backward, like she'd almost stepped out of the room then thought better of it.

“Director,” she said calmly, a thin tendril of interest as an underscore.

Then Hill had to _actually clear her throat_ , and Nat wanted to gloat over the way Hill had broken down, but she wanted to break her down even more first.

“Some minor alterations to the op. Come to my office when you are done here.” She turned on her heel sharply and marched out.

Nat was bleeding.

A lot.

She would be more worried about that, but she was also going into shock, and that made it a bit hard to think clearly.

So she was not worried.

Maria was. Chattering in her ear a mile a minute about something that Nat could not be bothered to care about right now. Because she was bleeding. And in shock.

She should have bought more ice cream before going out on this mission, but it had seemed easy enough.

It was still pretty easy. All the blood notwithstanding.

Oh, and look, Maria was here with her now, her bangs hanging in her face, a rough scrape on her cheekbone. Nat frowned; Maria should not be scraped up. “What happened?” She managed not to slur the words too horribly.

Maria laughed. She looked so pretty when she laughed, but she also looked sad. Nat was so tired of making people sad. “You've been shot.”

“No,” Nat whined, “Your face.” She tried to point but her hands were heavy and wet.

“Never mind my face,” Maria said, and then there was pressure on her stomach and her hands that kind of hurt. Nat grumbled and tried to move away from it. Maria's hand was warm on her face. “Natasha,” she urged, “Stay still.”

Nat blinked. She had never called her Natasha before. Nat liked it, the soft diminutive on her tongue. “I like that,” she told Maria with a smile. Maria should call her Natasha more often. She should tell Maria to call her Natasha more often.

Why was she calling her Maria? Hill, Director Hill. Professional, Nat was … professional.

“I'll call you whatever you want, Natasha, just stay with me, eyes on me, okay? Any other wounds? Can you feel this?” Hill pinched at her finger.

She grumbled and said, “Yes, stop it.”

“I would feel a lot better about this if you'd been in your gear.”

“Had to look pretty,” she reminded Maria. Hadn't she decided to call her Hill? Oh, well. “All I'm good for.”

“That is not true,” Maria insisted. “You are a phenomenal asset with many worthwhile skillsets.”

She laughed, but it hurt, so she stopped. “Worthwhile?”

“Combat, subterfuge, extraction. Your undercover work is a dream. Not to mention that you're beautiful, and funny in an odd, violent, Russian sort of way, and dangerously competent, and incredibly sexy-”

Nat echoed back, “Sexy?”

But there were other SHIELD people now, and a stretcher, and pain, lots of sharp pain being moved, and Maria pinched her finger again? No, needle, needle and bag and medicine...

Bright. Warm. Comfortable enough. A tug on her hand. Tackiness on her stomach. IV, medical tape, gunshot wound.

SHIELD Medical, then.

Nat blinked and adjusted to the light.

A doctor walked forward, shined lights in her eyes, and said, “Romanoff? You with us?”

“Romanova,” she corrected, a bit snappier than she normally would have. She had worked with SHIELD for months, the least they could do was learn her actual name. What was the point of letting people know her real name if they refused to pronounce it properly?

“Yup, you're back,” the doctor laughed while she moved away. “I'll get Hill.”

Oh. A test. Perhaps the medication from her IV line was still affecting her somewhat. An itch climbed its way up her spine. She did not detest Medical as Clint did, but it was by no means her favorite location.

Director Hill stepped into the small observation room, standing tall and no-nonsense. It was what Nat loved about her. _Liked_ , she corrected to herself immediately. What she _liked_ about Maria. She barely knew the woman outside of work.

“Agent Romanova. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Level-headed.” A little nervous about her condition, if it had been decided a Director should handle the conversation instead of a doctor. A single gunshot wound should not merit this. If she had been hit anywhere else, she could have kept moving.

“Good!” Hill cleared her throat. “Good. Doctor Reyes informs me you'll make a full recovery in minimal time. Blood loss was the only concern, easily remedied.”

Nat nodded. Never mind, then. Why was Hill here? Nat scanned her, but she gave very little away. Another reason Nat liked her, she liked anyone who was not painfully obvious.

Hill saw her look and said nothing.

She would leave soon. It could be weeks before they would work together again, and now that Nat could actually see weeks out, she did not want to wait. “Director Hill?”

“Yes, Agent?”

“In the field, you called me Natasha.”

To her credit, there was barely any hesitation. “Yes.”

“You may call me Natasha elsewhere, if you like.”

“ _Natasha_ ,” Maria breathed, rubbing at her shoulders.

Nat smiled against her skin and sucked a new bruise along Maria's thigh. Maria had agreed to love bites as long as they were out of sight, and Nat loved unwrapping her partner to reveal all these little signs of her presence.

They were in Maria's bed, another twenty minutes before they had to rise for the day. Nat had discovered she enjoyed morning sex, and she tried to coax Maria into it every chance they got. They always tried to spend every spare second together, whenever and wherever they could find it.

Which did mean they … _occasionally_ made love in Maria's office at SHIELD. On the little daybed tucked into the wall for especially long days, in her leather desk chair, most often on her desk itself. Maria had been the one to suggest it, which had surprised Nat somewhat. She had thought Maria too private and too professional to do such things at HQ.

It did not surprise her now. Maria liked the play of public and personal, liked to flaunt how well she could maintain her professional facade with her legs still shaking from an orgasm a few minutes before.

And Nat liked the way Maria liked it.

She rubbed her thumb along the bruise as she moved to scrape her teeth along Maria's hip, earning her another moan. Orgasm was not the aim here, just a slow build for later. But for now, she could smooth her hands over Maria's skin and lick the sweat from under her breasts and lose herself in the scent of Maria everywhere, her skin, her hair, her sheets and the blankets they'd kicked away.

Maria let out a happy sound, not quite a moan but more than a hum. “Have you decided how to punish Clint for introducing us?”

“Not yet,” she admitted, licking along Maria's collarbone. “I am considering adhering his arrows into his practice quiver, but I would have to assure somehow he has an audience when he discovers it.”

Maria pet her hair. “I'll schedule some training exercises. Say, a week from tomorrow. Will a dozen agents be enough?”

Nat smiled. “Plenty. It pays to be in the Deputy Director's bed, yes?”

Maria huffed and flipped them. “It pays in other ways too.”

“Show me.”


End file.
